It's Another Day
by totheboats
Summary: He's moving forward. He is. But it's not really working. He's afraid, once McNally comes back, all his efforts would prove in vain. But, you know, first she needs to come back.
1. It's another day

It's another day in a McNally-deprived existence.

It still hits him, this notion, less often than it use to, but it still does.

When the morning finds him in an empty bed. When he returns for the night to an empty house. When he sits in the back in parade and there's a vacant seat up front. When the rookies' table at the Penny consist of only Nash and Epstein. Sometimes he just has to look across their desks to Nash.

But then, there's Jerry.

They don't talk about either of them on a regular basis.

Nash would say something, note something and he would just give her a look. He knows that her kid does not make it easy - smart enough not to ask about Jerry, but McNally is another story.

She would just say - " It's been 12 weeks." Or anything of that liking and he would nod. That is usually it.

It happens even less now that Nash knows about Marlo.

They don't have pep talks either. That's Ollie's job.

It's also what got him to take the detective exam in the first place. That, and Frank's promise of eternity in booking. (Apparently arriving hung over to work 3 days in a row was too many, even if you went through the academy with your staff sergeant)

(He found Ollie knocking on his door in the late evening. He was already through his 3rd drink, as in scotch.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone," Ollie knew the password, apparently, and brought a six-pack.

The next week, Frank had one less problem to worry about. )

Keeps trying his best to make his current relationship work. When she's not here, when he's not distracted. She made her choice. She made her choice and he has to live with it. He has to move on. Try his best to be happy, without her. He has to be invested enough by the time she returns so it wouldn't hurt as much. Seeing her back in the streets. Back in Fifteen.

(When it was serious and he didn't want it to be - he didn't show so much affection. He didn't cuddle.

They would talk about stuff, but only because McNally would bring it up. And he would always deflect the hard stuff. He's endless supply of bad jokes.

Now that it isn't serious and he wants to convince himself that it is, that he is invested, he is all over it. It's not complicated. What you see is what you get. Somebody to come home to at the end of the day, for comfort, for fun. Never the hard stuff. Marlo doesn't want it, He doesn't want it. The hard stuff would have them running for the hills.)

Jogs his way to Fifteen.

Marlo didn't spend the night and he was up late.

Even though it's summer and it's hot - he needs the run.

That's how he keeps his head in the game.

That's how he heals. He already reached the shape where the run is enjoyable at this pace and distance. Yet he went home last night to an empty house and woke up in an empty bed...he picks up the pace.

Maybe a few more nights with Marlo and he'll be invested enough. He'll be ready to say he had moved on and mean it. Marlo's funny. She's not a rebound. He doesn't do rebounds - he goes under. But he can't go under, so -

he runs.

(It's been six months - he's very close to admitting defeat, that running isn't enough - he needs to return to his old friend, the heavy bag, at Fifteen's gym. Hasn't put on the gloves since Jerry, did wreck a dry wall at the house, though. With his bare hands.)

Oliver is idling along, and It's the usual chorus* -

Does he want a ride to the station?

What's with the jogging?

Does he want a coffee?

(for a TO who makes his rookies buy lunch, Oliver spent no small amount of money as a result of asking this question as much as he has).

It's not a daily occurrence, but Ollie does that more often than not these days.

The answers are always along the same lines -

'New me' or quoting back the 'Adapt or die' Ollie spewed the morning of the Fiasco,

'Green tea'.

Shaw always gets the desired effect, though - he spends the last mile thinking. And not about his breathing.

McNally isn't here. She doesn't want him to be a part of her life anymore

The call of the heavy bag takes the voice of Shaw's questions.

It's another day at the D's office, another day out of uniform, another day- enough.

It's another day out of uniform.

There he is Miss America with his ice cold green tea.

He sits alone in the back during parade, uniforms are doing speed traps (oh, he's so glad he's a D now) and the 20 bucks lost to Marlo do not affect his mood (he'll gain them back, one way or another).

The caterer pain in the ass Oliver and Epstein bring in has a few choice of words about quality automobiles and time wasting for the pair, and a trouble-spelling 'yeah. I want to talk to your manager', for Nash.

It's another day at the D's office.

Being the superior ranking detective that he is - he's the one to deal with the mess and the one to face Jacob Blackstone, typical drug squad D through and through - all 'dude' and scruffy beard, leather wristbands (your'e not a drug squad D without the accessories) and condescending attitude.

He find Blackstone's 'it's not a request' infuriating - Blackstone wants them to release the caterer.

He can't decide who bugs him the most: the heat, the caterer, or the drug squad doofus .

Dude.

"We've got meth coming over the border and reach so fast, we can barely keep up," it's story telling time with detective Blackstone.

"And where is it coming in from?"

"Mexico originally, but this stuff had been hitting town by the way of Fort Erie. Six months ago we placed two undercovers at the border-"

(He heard 'Fort Erie' and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The heavy bag at the gym seems more inviting than ever, all thanks to-)

"McNally and Collins?" he hadn't uttered those names in a while, they almost feel foreign to his lips.

This isn't news to him. He made a few calls, the first few days after (it's the Ds in the drug squad he has a problem with. The rest are quite alright), and even though he didn't know the details - he knew where she was placed less than 72 hours into her disappearing act.

So Blackstone's eyebrow quirk when he looks at him next – unsettles him a bit.

It's not the look he was expecting. Maybe 'so you know ' or 'you guys keep tabs', 'you are not supposed to have this information,' 'it's not relevant at the moment ' look he was expecting to get.

It's something... else.

He can't quite place it and his gut tells him it's no good, yet –

"Keep going."

Idiot.

Drug squad D idiot.

Instigating a turf war with two UCs in the mix? Is the guy out of his mind, or is this just the kind of people who the TPS puts in charge of their deep cover operations?

Is this just his luck, that the people he cares about always fall in with the wrong crowd?

It apparently comes with the territory - you get the charge of UC officers- you lose all care for their well being whatsoever, once the prize is in reach.

Things needed to be moved along. Yeah, that doesn't cut it.

(especially not when it's McNally's life, so-)

(there's a serious lack of plural in a crucial part of the next exchange, yet both he and Nash don't seem to notice.)

"What about my officer?"

"Your officer's just fine. Why don't you do me a favor and stop busting my balls and let my guys do their job? That'll be great, thanks!"

Once Frank tells them to step aside, he shoots* Nash a "we'll talk at the office" and speeds after Blackstone.

"What aren't you telling me?" He stalls Blackstone in the corridor.

"Collins - yes, McNally - no."

"Uh..what do you mean 'no'?" he's not sure he heard correctly.

"I know the name, but she's not one of my guys."

"Know the name?" he repeats to no one in particular, having stopped in his tracks while Blackstone continued down the hallway and out of the station.

(He knows Blackstone wasn't on board all along. So maybe the previous took her with him for a different angle elsewhere. It does happen sometimes, when ops evolve while in motion.)

But that's not the vibe he was getting. And the previous guy was Callaghan, was it not?

There's a twist in his stomach, a tug at his gut. He can hear it and it awfully sounds a lot like a warning beep.

Suddenly - it's not just another day anymore.


	2. The Beeps

Well, the man did not give him a reason to back off. Just a piece of the puzzle that does not fit. The turf war the idiot instigated takes precedence over the conundrum which he might hold the key to.

(Blackstone's quip is exactly that - a conundrum. He knows where McNally is. She's in Fort Erie, she's not hiding in the evidence lock up. So - )

They rally the troops to scout. It's a good thing Nash does the talking, his mind is otherwise occupied.

'Not one of my guys'? The hell?

He's about to tell her about Blackstone's disturbing remark, when she starts going on about the gas tanks. Apparently they got their link (and according to Shaw - he got some delicious tapas in his taste buds , so) -

Good initiative.

Blackstone does not see it that way.

They did not bring him new information, it turns out.

"So pull our people out," it's a simple plea, a gentle and logical one at that. You ran out of budget - you want to keep your assets, your UCs, safe. You need them for court, you need them for this whole thing to actually stick.

They're dealing with a drug squad D, the dude _needs_ this gentle reminder.

"I can't," is that worry in Blackstone's eye?

"Why?"

"Because I uhhh, I can't reach them. I haven't heard from Collins in 12 hours we're not gonna do anything until we do."

"Uhhh... what about McNally?" Nash asks, before he gets a chance to. He should have told her. She noticed both her partner and Frank did not ask the next obvious question, so she did.

"McNally's not one of my guys."

"Excuse me?" It's Nash.

"Collins' partner? It's a gal named Reeves, from 25. Yeah, she's," Blackstone has a bit of a stammer suddenly, " she's been off the wire since this afternoon. "

"Your'e telling us you lost both of them?" He's not sure why he's even surprised. These kind of detectives have only have one thing on their mind.

"It's fine, we got a spin team working on it," Blackstone doesn't sound convinced.

"Reeves? As in Dana Reeves? No way she goes off the wire, no way."

Both Blackstone and Best give him questioning looks of varying degrees.

Nash, apparently, is still in shock.

"And you know this...how, exactly?" Blackstone's question is doubtful. TPS is a huge force, it's a well placed doubt.

"Was a rookie with her back at 25, we did a stint togather in oh-7. Trust me, I know." Reeves didn't go to college. Took courses while on mat leave. Has two kids - Jason and Emily. She's a year older than Andy. It was a drug trafficking ring back in '07, accolades and all that after 5 months of hard work.

"You don't know Reeves, alright? She doesn't go off the wire, she doesn't miss calls."

"It's a glitch, it'll be fine."

That's when Frank pulls the plug. Sarge is not leaving it to chance - Fifteen division lost enough of its people in the past year.

He knows Reeves. She's the female him practically. Except, she has a family, a life. The rules she plays by are more conventional than his. Undercover, female officers have more leeway. They can get away with more stuff.

He truly hopes her experience would pull her and Collins through.

( but he trained Collins, and he knows one thing – both opratives off the wire within several hours – that's no glitch. Frank thinks so, too. With or without warrants – they're going in. )

Now, there's a warehouse to storm. Something to focus on, to silence the voice in the back of his head.

They're on their way out, down the corridor when Blackstone falls into step, seeing the looks Nash is throwing in her partner's way.

"You guys don't talk to each other ? some partners you are." How the dude finds the nerve to chide him right now, is beyond him.

On the other hand - he used to be the same about UC stings, so.

"Didn't have the chance," it's an apology in the form of a look, what Nash gets.

"Yeah you were busy wrecking my op." They're at the door, it's the usual pre-bust chaos outside.

"You did that all on your own, buddy," is his parting remark for Blackstone, as he and Nash make for their car.

Nash gives him a look.

'You've got explaining to do, partner.'

They're driving to the warehouse, Kevlar vests and all. He's doing his best to focus on the road.

"You know something," she states and it's like a time jump to six months ago. ('Yeah, McNally and Collins? Fort Erie.')

"It doesn't make sense, that's what I know."

"If she's not with Nick, then where is she?"

"Nash, I don't know. Let's just focus on the task at hand?"

Reeves is able to make contact - they find her and Collins in a trucking warehouse, find the drugs hidden in the back of a truck. The day is a success, yet there's no McNally in sight or even in passing mention -

a bingo turns into a beep, and not just for him.

But there's no way they can start piece this thing together right now - aside from friendly taps on the back, the occasional hug and a right hook from Peck, Collins disappears in a quiet flash for his debriefing in headquarters, a busy-looking Best does not seem disturbed with McNally's absence and everyone are reeling from the bust. They're not in the loop on the whole task force, so maybe- .

For the moment - it's just a short beep.

Nothing, really.

(a grateful Blackstone sheds some light before he leaves –

there were only Collins and Reeves when he took charge, less then 4 months earlier. Heard the name McNally but not much more.

"I got in about two months in, no idea when she got pulled.")

She got pulled? Excuse him - what?

Marlo finds him when he gets coffee, sees his faraway look, says she'll see him tomorrow - he has a few more hours at the desk and she's got the early shift, so-.

He'll be alone with his thoughts for the night, that damn beep echoing from his gut to his ears and vice versa.

McNally's friends are huddled in a corner together with Shaw, worried looks on their faces, yet all they can do is talk about the bust and their plans for the Penny. Not a word about the elephant in the room. Not a word about the beep.

"She was with me for only a week or so," it's a couple of nights later, he sits in a far corner of the Penny with Nash and Collins (one of Nash's rare appearances in the Penny as of late) -

Collins emerged from his post-debrief never-ending snooze to be dragged by Peck to the Penny (she heard the concern in Nash's voice that morning and decided to take one for the cause) -

McNally didn't meet anyone of importance, just stayed in the apartment. Got a call from their handler, went to a meet in a diner. Came back hours later, cried for a bit behind a closed door, packed her bag, went to bed.

The next morning - she was gone.

"Did she talk to you, say anything?" Nash asks, looking a bit confused.

"She said something about her safety in this cover, that she ran into people who know her in town," is Collins' answer.

" 'Know her in town'?! Who does she have in Fort Erie? " The next question is accompanied by Nash's darting gaze between both men, an incredulous look on her face.

Collins just shrugs, takes a sip from his beer, looks around - there's something he's not telling them - McNally wouldn't cry because of a failed attempt at UC.

(Next day, they're sitting at the office combing through paperwork, Nash clues him in on McNally's history of fresh starts and disappointments. Parts of it he knows, other parts - not so much. Doesn't feel comfortable talking about his ex-girlfriend with his partner, even if she does most of the talking. Nevertheless - the conclusion remains the same - )

McNally isn't a crier. This is not the whole story.

( If he wasn't supposed to show his affection to Marlo in a few minutes - he would've dragged army boy in for a second debriefing without a second thought - but he is and he can't.

It's not his place.

He's the ex that moved on - only there as the former TO, the best friend's partner, the trusted second opinion. It's not his place to pose questions, take actions.

Even if it concerns the person he cares about the most - he's the one to break the heart of Collins' break-up buddy. He's out of the loop.)

"What did your handler say? He must have gave you a reason," Nash tries again.

Their handler didn't add anything to the reasons -

There was a phone call McNally couldn't receive to her cover cell, that was what the meet was for. She took the cell, received the call, went outside. Of what he could tell - she mostly listened, her face were barley visible though, couldn't really tell -

She ended the call outside, went back in to return the cellphone, gave some vague answers, and left.

Called an hour later, said she needed to be pulled out. 'She's not safe in this town, with this cover.'

Two days later - Collins meets the handler and Reeves. There's nothing about where McNally had gone off to so he just assumed she went back home.

"Apparently that was not the case," another sip of the beer, Collins storytelling time is over.

Marlo walks in through the door. He quickly excuses himself, goes on with his evening alongside an unsuspecting Marlo, hopes it will be enjoyable enough to rid him from the feeling in his gut -

Pulled out within a week of going under, yet she didn't come back home - beep.

What he misses -

Collins continues to sit with Nash, fills her in on his suspicions concerning her partner and McNally's tears - McNally's not a crier. But maybe the break-up changed that, there's nothing to be certain of. For a while he thought maybe the tears and the departure were related, apart from the whole 'missing-an-opportunity-to-get-ahead-and-get-away' bummer. Collins isn't sure anymore, so is Nash. They get their own beep.

It takes a few days but - they talk to Frank.

Or better yet - Nash talks to Frank. He just sits behind his desk, tries to concentrate on some case file he was handed this morning, and fails miserably - his gaze keeps wandering through the glass towards Best's office.

(He wants to be there. Pose the question and gauge Frank's reactions up close. He can't. Might send the wrong idea. They might get the sense he's beyond intrigued, but actually worried. A rookie he trained, after all. He's allowed to be intrigued.

Nash fills him in (she only does that as a second opinion kind of thing, a second opinion of someone who knows McNally just as well as Nash does. It's not because he shows major interest or anything, at least he thinks he does) -

White shirts' spin of the story - she was sent back under with a different op, same taskforce.

"They don't usually do that do they, send burned operative from one crew to the other?"

"Unless you pull some strings, talk to the right people, have enough credit. Other than that - no, they usually don't."

'You talkin' from experience?' is the look she sends him next)

"And she certainly doesn't have any of these."

(with McNally senior forced retirement, most of the former colleagues and ties were fried - you don't want anything to do with those kind of situations - bad vibes, no matter the reason. So no strings.

It's McNally first UC op, new identity and all, and she has a UC-related suspension in her record - no credit.

And talking to the right people? She's a talker, and he trained her well so she could put that ability to good use, but without at least one of the first two? No way. So -)

"This stinks," Nash vocalizes his own thoughts.

She needs a second opinion - he figures that's the only reason why she even shares her concerns with him, why she asked him nicely to join in on her chat with Collins the other night. She's the best friend, he's the former TO turned partner, now ex - they can form a whole 360 of the way McNally operates.

Plus- he's been more years on the force, UC experience, all that crap.

Yeah, he hopes that's why she's bouncing her theories off of him.

Nothing to do with any feelings he might still have stored somewhere, collecting emotional dust. Nothing at all. Doesn't want his partner to get any ideas - it's none of her business.

Making sure Tommy didn't fall off the wagon, he concludes it's a Claire related issue. He has nothing to go on and Noelle is the one with ties in the child protective services - he can't clue her in when it's something he's not even supposed to know about an officer which is no longer under his wing - Frank Best does not snoop.

He lets it go.

It's a weekly ritual. Nash creeps into the Sargent's office. Are there any news about Andy?

(he knows very well Nash's partner scouts from their office).

When Nash comes knocking, spewing things about doctors and files, he relents.

McNally had a few days in Toronto while things were in motion, must have been then.

"Now, I don't know why she had that window, I'm not even supposed to know about said window, but she had it. And this stays between the three of us." He hopes Nash would call this a meaningful look.

"Sir, I do not want to overstep my boundaries here, but she's my best friend, I'm worried. The busts and warrants - the op is done. Where is she? Why would she do this? "

"Nash, my hands are tied, and I'll appreciate it if you don't go over my head. Have you heard from the child protective services recently?"

(Frank Best doesn't snoop. But that does not prevent him to send interested parties in, he assumes, the right direction).

She's not going guns blazing to Claire. First, she doesn't have that kind of relationship, if any, with Claire. Second - she doesn't want to alarm.

It's a dead end, for the time being.

"What's the first thing you did when you got home after Andy burned you?-"

Stakeouts are Fun. At least, they used to be... tolerable. Emphasis on 'used to'.

There's an ex-con, got out, found out he was ditched by his girl, got pissed. They keep watch on her new place. She's in safe keeping.

Plenty of time for Nash to get on his nerves. (She does this to everyone, he thinks...No, she doesn't. Not anymore.)

"-You call your loved ones, right? Let them know that your'e okay, right?"

All she gets is a nod. He has the binoculars.

"She was here, in Toronto for a week before she went back under. Didn't call me, didn't call Frank, he had to find out from Luke."

An almost immediate transfer to a different agency - no phone calls to Nash or even Best.

Beep.

It's another day.

They just came back to the barn from a scene where, just his luck, one of the suspect found it necessary to throw up all over the place. One of the casualties- his shirt. He excuses himself at the locker rooms, when suddenly-

Nash goes in, gets out, looks a bit confused. at his questioning look she simply says - "Her locker's empty."

He knows who. Asks all the same.

"Andy. Her locker's empty. "

She's not coming back.

Beep.

Oliver is the first to be out-in-the-open worried. He has the experience (doesn't buy into the whole 'UC on a different agency'), knows about the night she went under-the confession to a grenade-wielding McNally, the "I'll be at The Penny" fiasco - the whole shebang. He's the one to talk with Tommy, and while he carefully avoids alarming his retired TO, he's alarmed himself -

Tommy hasn't heard from her.

Beep.

Her condo? The 5-year-plan , aka 'the toilet factory' ? Vacant and on the market, for sale.

He and Nash are mistaken for a couple of potential buyers. That's how he now stands, alongside Nash, in an empty apartment. The one McNally used to reside in. They return the keys (show their badges), pose (friendly) questions.

What happened to the plan, the big five-year plan. The one that sent him undercover?

('Drink the champagne, eat the good candy' notwithstanding)

Beep.

(Oh, and the neighbors, the ones who know everything ? Don't have a clue.

Beep.)

When he dubbed it a 'Houdini' he didn't know the extent to which he'd be proven right. Almost seven months, he just now realizes – that's exactly what she did.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely reviews, it's encouraging to see people still care about these characters and their stories. (I really thought I'm posting this just for me.)

A few notes:

1\. I am not a native english speaker, and I don't have a beta. You've been warned.

2\. Most of this story is already laid-out, but there's plenty of editing to do, as I wrote most of it more than five years ago and my english got slightly better since. Anyway - this will take time. Please be patient.

3\. Writing this was difficult at times. But, I talked myself down from the 'I hate Sam' tree. Please do not throw twigs (or hateful comments, civil ones are ok) at me.

Until next time,

totheboats.


	3. This Really Bizarre Form of Chess

A/N: This took longer than expected, and the next three parts would be a bit difficult for me, but after that I hope for smoother sailing :)

Warning: This part mentions abuse in general terms. No graphic details.

* * *

He's getting increasingly worried as the days pass, but he doesn't admit it. He's concerned - an ex, a colleague, his partner's best friend, his own partner of three years. He _is_ concerned, not just mildly. With his gut and the beeping - he didn't have a good night's sleep in weeks.

He cannot be worried - he moved on. She did not want to give him a second chance, he got her cue and moved on. The fact that she wasn't where he thought she was got nothing to do with it. Her coming back won't change the fact -

It's over.

* * *

The phone charger he keeps at work stopped working earlier that week, so his phone's been dead for the last few hours of the last few shifts.

(He keeps forgetting to get a new one, being cooped-up, going through a court case. He barely sees the light of day.)

It's fine. That's what a landline's for, right?

He arrives home opting for a beer and a game, maybe.

(He's fooling himself- all he's gonna do is stare at the screen and try to infer where McNally has gone to.

They haven't cornered Frank yet, but Collins' tale-

It has him alarmed.)

There's a charger in the kitchen, and he plugs it in, turning the phone on while fishing the last of the weekend's six pack out.

The screen lights up - new voicemails. Probably Ollie ranting about, well, something that gotta do with his friend's dead phone. Shaw called the office and that was the conversation starter, so.

Entering the code, he puts it on speaker, and debates a snack.

 _You have two. New. Messages._

" _Brother, you really have to do something about this. I can't keep calling Nash: She keeps me on call waiting while she talks to Leo, and then there's.._."

The rant goes on for a minute there and he doesn't mind. It's good entertainment.

Nachos. He's feeling like nachos.

The second message, well, he should have expected that.

" _You remember that weekend next month, right?_ "

It's Sarah. And vaguely.

" _Let me remind you - Anniversary. Weekend getaway. Three nephews in need of their uncle. Sounds familiar?_ "

Yes. That.

" _Anyway, you have the early shift Thursday, say thank you-_ "

"Thank you," he raises his beer, nodes with a smile.

" _\- and get yourself down here by eighteen hundred hours at the latest._ "

More like 8 pm, really.

" _I know you sign off at four, so don't get any ideas_."

Or not.

" _Love you_ ," he can hear the ruckus of kids entering a class room and she hung up.

On the other hand, he can always plead a case.

* * *

"You know sis, it would be much appreciated if you wouldn't choose my vacation days for me, or at least consult me beforehand."

(They talked quite a bit the last couple of weeks. Many texts and even a phone call - She's trying to draw him out, make him talk about his life. Other than work, of course.

Gets deflected every time. )

She's both surprised and not, that this is what on his mind.

"As if you would spend your vacation days any other way."

(It's true. He rarely spends his vacation time without them. They're his only family. The Shaws get him on his days off. Well, they used to. Things with Zoe are not going so well)

"I still wish to have some control over my personal time, not entirely, just some. Control freak," he says that, and his voice is barely laced with humor. Loving humor.

"Stop whining. You have no demands on your free time except us."

"Sarah, you know that I'm seeing someone. Maybe I'm saving vacation days so we can go somewhere?"

(Oh, she knows. The only reason she knows is because, a few weeks earlier:

"Did my brother patch things up with his rookie?"

"Nope, he has a new girl now, Marlo. You'll love her," he replied in sing-song, sarcastic.

Oliver Shaw is a ray of sunshine)

He sounds perturbed and exhausted. Her brother always sounds perturbed, but this feels different. There's an underlining of something that transforms perturbed to troubled, tired to exhausted.

They talked the previous week - there were no mentions of never-ending cases or long days at the barn, he is no longer training rookies. Why is her brother exhausted?

"If Marlo is exhausted as you sound, you two would be sleeping away those vacation days. How is she, anyway? Do you see her much?"

All she got was a name, and this is only their second phone call since she learned of the woman existence - she's bound to be curious.

"She's a beat cop. And she's fine. And I'm also fine. It just been a long week," she can hear it in his voice already: he's trying to mask his tiredness and deflect her inquiries at the same time.

She lets him.

"Are you sure you'll even be up for the task? You know, this is a tornado trio, I should remind you."

"We'll be fine. And they are not a tornado trio anymore. They're a crew."

(He dubbed them 'the crew'. she wanted a pair, a duo. He knew that. So once Owen came along - it's a crew.

Well, they _were_ the tornado trio for a while, but since nothing has been broken for the last few of their solo-weekends with their uncle, they're a crew again.

They don't have a goal or a mission, he explained, but they go through the storms together.)

"As long as you're sure," she's unconvinced.

"I miss them - I'll be there," he assures. "Stop worrying so much."

She's his older sister, she's allowed to be worried. That's the whole idea behind this 'weekend' scheme. She figures if there's a new woman - they should really talk about the previous one, about the rookie. Otherwise her brother is leading on someone else other than himself.

* * *

Luce broke her arm a few months back. Playing, if witness reports are to be believed, an aggressive game of basketball.

She's his niece alright.

The situation called for a parley with her mom, trying to downplay his role in this whole thing. He had an alibi, and it wouldn't have been enough.

Their first conversation in months (other than the weekly 'I can't talk right now, I'll call you back' which he didn't, but his sister was content enough with hearing his voice, apparently, at least for another week )

He has to cut her right off the bat: "How are you? How's your rookie? Is Every-"

"It's over. We're not talking about this right now."

Or ever, if he can help it. He can't foresee a future when this whole fiasco with McNally doesn't hurt like a bullet in the vest.

A breath. "How's Luce?"

"Gets everybody she meets to sign her cast. She's very proud of it, you know." The slight anger in her voice was enough for him to know this wouldn't be a mess he would get out of easily.

"Aside from that, if you want to hear stories-" she baited him, "-you come down and visit."

So he did.

Sarah tried to sit him down for a talk after the kids went to bed, Mark made himself scarce. (You gotta give it to him, the guy knows where his allegiance lie).

Now, he did explain himself and his basketball doctrine, and Sarah demanded he'll tone it down a little (he did).

But, of course, that's not all off it.

'A Talk', usually means Sarah trying to instill in him normal rituals of mental health, i.e. if it pains you, talk about. If it's over, talk about it. Mainly she wants him to reflect on ended relationships, so she would know he's okay, that he's not hurting.

(Maybe she's also trying to make sure he's not a douche.)

It's one thing to do it when he's not, in fact, bruised, pained. He sometimes obliges. It's a whole new ballgame when he's crushed. So-

It didn't take.

He knows she had to give it a chance. It's what big sisters do.

* * *

She tried to get him talking about the house. That's usually a sure way to get her brother's mood up.

('The house' is what used to be labelled a 'fixer- upper', by its owner, and a 'dump' by almost everyone else. He didn't have a 10 year plan, maybe a window. Luckily working off his aggression in the past few years shortened it to a seven-year-project. It's closer to a masterpiece now.

3 floors, a backyard and a basement. It is in no way, shape or form, a bachelor pad. Except for the fact the idiot is waiting for all his tasks to be finished so he can find the interior decorator within him, i.e. acquire furniture.

Oh, and it's all paid for. UC work is a _lot_ of money.

Sarah recalls there's only the deck left. But it requires warmer temperatures, so it won't be finished in the next few months.

She hopes this might egg him on to actually furnish the place. )

It was a no go:

"What about the house?"

"Almost done."

'Almost done'? There isn't even a spare bed, just an armchair, (It's not even a lazy boy) and an old couch (which actually used to be hers. Her brother really doesn't like shopping).

"You didn't by any chance buy a bed for the guest room or, I don't know, a couch?"

"No."

"So how exactly is it 'almost done'?"

(The man won't set foot in a furniture store if you paid him.)

There was no waxing poetic about the merits of building your own furniture. The ruse he was going to use this time to get Ollie's help. His vision for the deck. Nothing. So-

There's a small red flag, planted in a small corner of Sarah's mind. (If he won't talk about the house, he actually saw glimpses of shared future in it, and he haven't made peace with-, he haven't let it go yet.)

She knows a relationship is truly over in his books when he actually talks about it. When he stops deflecting her questions, gives straight answers, actually engages in the conversation. 'We weren't on the same page', 'we didn't think it's a good idea', 'It ran its course' - Gives her a reason. Then she knows: it's over and done, history.

She might be the only person he does talk to about his love life. All Ollie gets to do are side remarks, with no immediate response or acknowledgment.

He doesn't come to _care_ for people easily. Love? Romantic love? That's an endangered species. Only rumored in legends of college and youthful stories of old.

They need to talk.

* * *

They don't always talk about his love life or safety -

Sarah was against the undercover stints from the get go. She even started a campaign, once he finished paying off the house. Enlisted a seven-year-old Luce and a three-year-old Owen, both in the prime of their adorableness, to convince their uncle he should 'stay home'.

(He still remembers Owen chanting the words until they lost their meaning, the cry distorted into 'ay! Om!')

It was tough.

If he recalls correctly, his sister let out a little squeal of delight when told her brother will not be going undercover ever again

They actually talk about things that matter, from time to time. They have a long continuous discussion with Mark about the appropriate age to tell a child that his grandfather is in jail and why. Do you tell them why straight away? Do you wait a few years to see how they deal with it? Do you wait until they are all fully grown adults?

Sarah and Mark had consulted with a children psychologist. A couple of those, as a matter of fact.

Disclosing abuse to a third party, they first wanted to advise the abused parties. He had a few notions, important ones. Mainly that they should wait.

They haven't told the kids yet. Jake knows that Jay is in prison. Doesn't know why, doesn't know about the hell his grandfather made of the life of his immediate family. They don't want to risk the results of a teenage tantrum.

Luce and Owen haven't a clue.

* * *

The bit about his house? That was how she knew the rookie wasn't just a colleague. That, if and when they get together, the gal wouldn't be just a fling.

The rookie, whom he hasn't named, and for some odd reason, neither has Oliver Shaw, was all her brother could talk about for the first few months after said rookie busted him, throwing eight months down the drain.

No, that was actually Jerry. (As usual, Ollie spilled the beans.)

At first, there was anger, rage.

Then appreciation. A bit of their adventures. Then nothing.

"Did you finish the guest bathroom already? Jake has a vested interest, you know."

He was there for a quick visit. One following many phone calls of 'get yourself down here'. Sarah was making up for lost time.

"Why does a thirteen-year-old have a vested interest in a guest bathroom he barely visits? He's not going to get back here from a-. Yeah, you know what, why don't you tell me about Luce's adventure as a fourth-grader-something?"

She managed to navigate them back to him, to his life.

"How is your rookie?"

"Not a rookie anymore," with that squint.

She knows that squint. It whispers of repressed pain and faint traces of anger.

"Oh, really?"

(Now, the healthy answer would have been - 'yeah, she was just cut loose', and then another story of said rookie misadventures, laughing eyes and incredulous smirks.

That's not what happened.)

"Yup." It was clipped. He wasn't looking her in the eye, acting as if something drew his attention outside for a brief moment.

And it's not like he wasn't in the mood for talking.

(He rants. He always rants about his work life.)

Shaw and the family, Jerry and his rookie girlfriend, and what bugs him about- pretty much everyone in Fifteen.

Except the rookie.

Sarah took note, and carried on.

Sometimes she thinks she should have been a detective.

The rookie has continued on being an exception. He just didn't talk about her. At all. Neither did Ollie, but she always asked: "how's your rookie?"

And she would only get one liners, sarcastic to the point of bitterness.

"Moving in with her golden boy."

"Engaged."

"Trouble magnet."

And then, there was a slight shift:

"Did your rookie tie the knot already?" She wasn't snooping, she just never known her brother like this - he should have moved on by now. Greener pastures.

"He cheated," he was not gloating. A bit angry, maybe a bit relieved. But just a little bit.

He actually started answering questions. By this point she was so used to 'Bambi' and 'rookie' she haven't bothered to ask for a name.

Slowly, she found traces of hope. But then she got a phone call: the idiot was going back under.

"Going under? What about your rookie?"

"What about her?" He has that tone in his voice. She knows that tone. She hates it. Even though it's one of his tells and provides her with means to win a round or two of poker.

"Nothing, nothing. Be careful."

"I will."

He wasn't.

She came home to find Mark there, back early from work. Picked up Jake and Luce on his way. That wasn't in their schedule. Something was up.

It was only a couple of hours, but it stuck with her. It stuck with them, as a family.

She knew he was safe, injured but physically whole.

The parts of the story which reached her were sans the worst parts. She knew he got made, and that was enough for her.

Does anyone need to know anything passed 'He had a brush with death'?

The rookie played a part. She knew that, too.

Owen didn't know a thing, of course. So, she didn't push right away for a visit. Sent Mark with their eldest up to Toronto that weekend. It was a brief visit.

A week later, her suspended brother haven't showed up yet, and wasn't taking any of her calls.

She left voicemails.

 _"...you won't come down here because you got hurt. You forget I know you, brother mine - you don't want us to see you broken. It's ok. I just want to see you."_

 _"...I know it's difficult, but maybe we can help?"_

It went downhill from there.

 _"...get your ass down here as soon as the swelling is down. Shaw is keeping me posted so don't you dare..."_

But it did the trick:

He was surprisingly forthcoming, once he did come. When he concluded the abridged version of the whole case, she only managed to come up with -

"She just left?" And surprise in her voice.

The following conversation is the only open conversation they had concerning this woman. It was also brief.

A couple of months later, the rookie came back and they were dating, she heard.

Yet she knew her brother got burned by this woman, more than once. He would be keeping his distance for a while.

* * *

The thing with teens? They have their own phones. That's how he found himself in a day-long text conversation with Jake, two weeks before he was supposed to take the detective exam.

'We're done with school'

'Might maw lawns or something, get a job'

'Aunt Daphne not gonna come'

'It's fine'

His nephew hasn't matured into subtlety yet.

It was not fine. Summer is probably the only time when they get to see her. Two whole weeks she dedicates to her only nephews.

'I'll see you guys in a few days.'

And of course -

Sarah was at it again. And he had enough:

There was a lull in the conversation. Jake was out with friends, Luce probably reading in her room and it was past Owen's bedtime. They were sitting in the kitchen, he told her about his work with the Ds and the exam. It seemed like she was taking it all in. Her brother is no longer a beat cop. He's not going undercover ever again.

It was a lot to take in. But then-

"How's your rookie?"

"Why do you _care_?" He exploded. The entire concept of compartmentalizing is to keep those thoughts away, stow the agony and anger. He was not ready. He won't be ready. Why doesn't his sister get that?

"She made you happy," she replied with a firm voice.

There was not the slightest chance he was staying for another round of this.

"We are not getting into that," he said, getting up and moving to place his half empty coffee cup in the sink. "I think I'm gonna head out, I have to study."

He wondered how long this thing gonna last. When is she going to give up?

He was already seeing someone else. Not that Sarah heard of it, but still.

How long?

* * *

She came up with the scheme after his last visit. It's a trap she's luring him into: let him spend the weekend with the crew, they'll soften him up a bit. He can't deny them anything. If they ask he usually answers, within the range of reason. She'll arrive on Sunday night, and rip the rewards. It's also a deadline - if they don't talk then she's pulling out the big guns. She'll connive with Shaw, maybe send Jake as a mole.

She'll go to Toronto if she'd have to.

* * *

He works on his deck and hears the beeping.

He started working on the deck, finally. It's a warmer weather, and he needs to vent on his days off. All by his lonesome, thank you very much.  
He's having trouble focusing at the task at hand. He buys the wood, but lets the guys at the lumber yard cut it for him. These are good guys. One of them actually drives back with him just to make sure the measurements are correct.

Another one drills him for 10 minutes, through the steps of the task at hand. Twice.

They know a distracted carpenter when they see one.

(Nobody just transfers. It's not something that happens in Fifteen division. Coppers who were trained in these streets, who rode side by side, day in, day out. People don't just leave. You say goodbye. It's the nature of the job - you might not see these people ever again.

You _say_ goodbye.

He has hard time understanding how Frank let that happen. And he has no other explanation for McNally's empty locker. Frank says he did not sign any transfer papers. And the only loan forms he signed were those for project Dakota. Two sets - one for McNally, the other for Collins.

But her locker's empty.)

He lets them. He lets them because: one, it's the first time he replaces a whole deck and two -  
they won't sell him the lumber otherwise.

Ollie comes by to situate the wood in the shed. There's plenty of sanding and painting to be done before the actual replacing.

Both are silent, but they don't have any doubt about whom is on the other's mind-

McNally.

(Her father wasn't exactly a 'Do it yourself' kind of guy. They went camping, Tommy showed her how to pick locks. He taught her how to survive. It was necessary. )

She was so excited every time they started a new task together. She loved working with her hands, learning new skills.

(He has no idea how she meant to flip the toilet factory without said skills. Feels like he should have read between the lines -

Five years is enough time for two people to flip an apartment.

He was in her plans.

He's not anymore.)

He can't stay for long periods of time in the parts that she helped him with.

It hurts too much. And talking about the house in general - it stings.

Jake is one thing. All he cares is that there would be a room, where he can sleep in alone and a basement, where he can watch TV uninterrupted.

There are.

Minus a TV, a couch, and a bed, of course.

(Furniture stores are local venues for torture. The salespeople were Spanish inquisitors in previous lives.

He just didn't have the time to go through all those sharing groups on social media and find something that'll fit.

Now, he just doesn't have the energy. Or the conviction.

His mind is too occupied. A pandemonium with a single connecting string.

On a second thought - he might actually need Jake's help.)

Sarah, Sarah is a menace. Somehow she convinced herself that if he doesn't talk about the house it has a deeper meaning. Except for the part where his sister and he don't see eye to eye about furniture.

So he just doesn't talk about the house.

This has nothing to do with the helper which doesn't reside in his bed or is even a figure in his life anymore.

Not one bit.

* * *

She talked to Ollie when she came up with it, the scheme. Is there any way to secure a Thursday through Sunday? He said he'll talk to Nash.

"Who's Nash?"

"The one that has your brother's back these days. He really doesn't tell you anything does he?"

"Not since Jerry, no."

(The week Jerry died, they were with the in-laws in Boston. She hadn't heard anything till she got back, and her brother wasn't picking up - she called Oliver.

She was crying with him, on the phone.

It's not something that would have happened with her brother.

Knowing her brother - he needed space. And she let him have his space.

She hoped his rookie did the same. She desperately hoped.

She knew Oliver was staying with him, so she wasn't worried. Sent her brother a text once a week, making sure he was still breathing, a filler to see if he was ready to get out of his cave. She only got texts back, which read 'I'm fine'.

(Who exactly did he think he was fooling? When he's fine, he talks to her. She knows that, he knows that. Idiot brother.)

When he finally risen back to the surface, i.e. her communication with her brother grew to more than two- sentence conversations her concerns took form in reality - they broke up.

She saw it coming, but she dearly hoped she'll be mistaken. This was no fling. He loved her. Sarah knew that. Cursed her brother under her breath for letting the girl slip away instead of opening up to her).

He tries, as much as he can, to only take Sarah's calls when he can actually focus on the conversation. Meaning, he's not wrecking his brains out about a case at work, or about McNally at home.

He's afraid he might let something slip. Admit something that will make it infinitely harder to keep it together and actually function.

She didn't even say goodbye.

* * *

They talk 3 times in the following weeks.

She reminds him about the weekend, starts asking about Marlo and herself answering questions about everyone and everything, so it seems (she's walking on eggshells, she wonders if he'd notice). Yet she has no explanation why her brother mood keeps deteriorating.

Gradually she decides to give him an out, maybe a weekend with the crew would be too much.

"...If you can't make it - it's ok. We'll figure something out, talk with Daphne or something. She's back from the internship and she owes you one."

"It'll be fine, don't worry."

"Baby brother, what is going on?"

Apparently her tone was worried enough, because-

"We're missing a-" He blurts it out. Then he stops.

"You're missing a what?"

"An informant. We're missing an informant. We don't know if they ran away or got spooked and laying low. I fear that they took an initiative and it's a rabbit hole I'm not sure they can go out of easily."

At first it throws her off, but then -

He caught himself.

That wasn't he brother spilling his beans, it's him telling a story. But the concern in his voice is real.

She'll find out next week anyway.

* * *

He doesn't share his theories with Nash, or anyone for that matter. First, he doesn't want any misguided remarks about the state of things left between McNally and him (Peck is a smart girl and keeps her distance, Ollie has other concerns at the moment - divorce is not easy.)

Second, talking about his assumptions, his theories - makes them tangible. They can be scrapped as improbable (when he would rather stick with them) or be made plausible by the notions of another person (who unintentionally hangs up a banner reading 'Welcome to your worst nightmare').

After his slip up on the phone with Sarah, his dreading the upcoming visit all the more.

It's his first visit since his sister learned about Marlo (he has no doubts regarding the traitor identity). Sarah and Mark leave Friday morning, so if his sister plans to ambush him, it's either going to be Thursday afternoon or Sunday evening.

He's a detective now - he can't pull the early shift card. A date with Marlo might work. Of course, his sister doesn't have to know that it isn't actually a date (or that Marlo and he had never been on date, casual as they are.)

It's not that he doesn't want to talk, put the past behind him, at least McNally wise. But with the incessant beeps and the toll his worry takes on him, he thinks this might do more harm than good. Especially when he feels like he can't exactly.

Breathe.

He can't exactly breathe.

(She- she sold the apartment.

She sold her apartment, as in it was sold on her behalf. The realtor, the one that assumed them to be potential buyers? She called to inform them the place was sold. No, she hadn't met the previous owner and resident - the place was still furnished but vacant of people, when she got the file. The furniture just disappeared at some point.

She only met a man in his early sixties.

No, she doesn't know if they're related. She can look his name up if they'll provide a warrant.

Things don't add up.)

As if exhaling would necessarily mean a slip up, one he cannot walk back, one he might not even be aware of it happening until it's over.

He's afraid his sister might be that aforementioned 'other person' and burst his bubble. Or worse, give him the silent treatment for weeks (actually that's not such a bad idea. But the chances of this specific outcome are slim).

Yeah, he's going to plead a case for Thursday and give her the slip Sunday afternoon. Otherwise he thinks he won't be fit to work the next couple of _weeks_. There's a limit to the amount of personal days one can take without spilling one's beans to one's superior. He'll surely cross it

* * *

A/N: OK, so in this part we met Sarah and her family. Apparently big sister is on Sam's case even more than Oliver.

Sam having a fixer- upper house used to be a thing. There was even a fic where it had three-stories. All I'm saying is - I didn't come up with it, but it's a headcanon I accept whole-heartedly. I really don't care the show implied otherwise. (Same goes for basketball.)

Merci pour votre commentaire !

Thank you for all your lovely comments! It's really encouraging.

Next up : weekend with the crew!

Until next time,

totheboats


	4. Placing Earmuffs

He doesn't need to plead a case - there is a case.

Arrives at the barn in the morning, knowing he has the drive in the evening to look forward to. Coming noon - completely forgets about his weekend plans. They deal with anthrax, of all things. Marlo and the new girl got the stuff all over them, and to further complicate things - it was spread by cocaine. Drug supply and buyers are, of course, always easy to uncover, right?

It's Ollie's hand on his shoulder, accompanied by 'Tell Sarah I said hi' that draws him out of his dreams about a shower and bed, reminding him that he is an only uncle again. And that uncle has duties: Sarah's 15 year anniversary calls for a weekend away from the crew and he was designated (read: pestered for months) for the task (considering the rest are either on tour overseas or completing a thesis in Caltech - only uncle available is an understatement).

It doesn't help that things are going nowhere with the McNally mystery.

Hearing arraignment for targets of project Dakota began this week - task force concluded - busts were made on all fronts, every UC operative, of any agency, related to the task force is home, safely tucked in their real lives and identities. Yet -

No McNally.

The following day after the call from the realtor, Nash 'bumped' into Tommy, outside an AA meeting. Looking for Dex as her cover story (knowing full well her ex is with their son, in her house), she managed to ascertain once again - Tommy haven't seen his daughter for months. Haven't gone to her apartment, either.

Another dead end.

Those theories he doesn't want to share with anyone? Some allow him hope.

(The thought of McNally being cooped up somewhere, under, with a team and back up, in some op, is something he can live with. Yet chances a pretty slim. The other option - that McNally just ran away, that he caused her to walk away and never look back, just like her mother - turns his veins to ice. Surprisingly, he still hopes that's the case - she's not in any danger that way, not more than usual.

His worst nightmare? McNally in a witness protection program. It combines the theories he can actually live with, in the worst ways. )

The crew don't care about his love life, his work life. Well, not anymore - Owen keeps playing secret agents, he is told, the espionage sort of cover. Jake and Luce got the wakeup call after Brennan. They just let him into their lives. Drama and problems of their respected ages. And the comedy. Oh, the comedy... most of it is cringe worthy, but some of it is golden, small stories they might as well tell for the rest of their lives.

For a moment he pretends they are all there is in his world. They distract him in the best of ways, the crew. He's calm, relaxed. Truly and completely so.

He needs that right now.

* * *

He arrives close to midnight, says hi to his brother-in-law and retreats to the guestroom.

The next morning he wakes up, says goodbye to his sister and Mark, (Sarah's giving him that look. She suspects foul play. He wonders if he should frighten her with Anthrax or ask Ollie to vouch for him. Which side is Shaw on, anyway? Traitor) makes sure Jake and Luce make their bus and drives Owen to school.

(What a sweet life the little one leads, having a chauffeur and his mom at his beck and call at every recess. On the other hand - the poor fellow cannot get away with feigning sickness to his teachers: they just send him to the lie detector a few doors down. Sarah takes a look, gives a look and goes back to making sure no first grader is eating glue. )

He goes about the house. Mark left him a list with things he should fix. Sarah and Mark can hold their own, they just choose to spend their money on their family and not tools. And of course, there's the universal law - do not use a tool you do not have the skill for.

Knowing the safety and comfort of his closest family resides in preforming these tasks to a t, he does his best to focus.

He imagines teaching these skills to Jake, standing there next to him. Details out loud every step of the way. He tried imagining Luce, with her quirk questions and unique perspective. She has a creative soul, the munchkin.

Problem was: Luce kept morphing into McNally. Well, not exactly McNally: the figure kept its stature, but her smile was McNally's, and her eyes were McNally's. With early teen features, and very familiar dimples.

So-

Jake.

Done with his tasks, he sets out to pick up his sous chef and groceries - tonight on the menu: lasagna. Owen kindly informs him that he - as an enlightened fourth grader- does not eat meat.

"Excuse me?"

"Or fish. Or anything which had a mother," the little guy elaborates.

"Great." Do eight-year-olds know to decipher sarcasm? How about pained smiles?

(Daphne, this is Daphne's doing. And maybe Mark. Owen does not get this empathy from his side of the family, that's for sure.

This time he hears _her_ voice in his head:

'This kid, huh? What a heart.')

"Does this has anything to do with Daphne?"

"No. I just don't want to eat my friends."

"Okay, okay. So what do we do about the lasagna?"

Back from the groceries run (there's a first time for everything, even spinach lasagna), they find the rest of the crew already at home. Then there's homework and meal prep. The hour until the food's ready is a basketball tournament, out on the patio. They take turns, Mr. Hotshot and him, with the height-challenged crew members. And Jake really doesn't mind he's never on his uncle's team - kiddo has something to prove.

It's a tie, of sorts.

Apparently one tray of lasagna almost isn't enough for one meal, let alone two - there's one, lone piece left, when the table's cleared. He stashes it at the back of the fridge, hoping Mark might get a chance to taste and weep. He's not counting on it, though: he keeps forgetting just how much food a teen aged boy might consume when given an opportunity.

As Owen speeds his way towards the TV, the rest stay at the kitchen - clear the table, wash the dishes, and then just sit and talk.

An unusual occurrence for teens their age, yet that's what they do.

Luce has a crush she refuses to name.

"Hey Luce, Luce! We just want to make sure that they're not a bad influence on you, that's it." He says 'we' but he's quite sure Jake has other intentions in mind.

"It has nothing to do with teasing you, or intimidating them," Jake promises with a smile which, Luce should have already learned, does not imply trustworthiness.

"In your dreams, Cookie" They _are_ related! A wise kid, this young one is.

"Cookie? Am I missing something?"

Apparently Jake had already attracted the attention of the girls on the bus.

Cookie, formerly known as kiddo, Jake and 'Not that!', actually blushes.

It's time to change the subject.

He does need some dirt on his sister, come to think of it.

They spend the rest of the evening with stories about the mishap of one or the other, foolish thing their parents do and filling him in about, everything basically. They want him to know everything, it seems, like maybe they want to show him what he misses when he's not down for a visit more often. They miss him.

Well, what they really miss - are the guys who aren't there. His brother-in-law's siblings, which barely get to see the crew. Only on selected holidays, once in a blue moon. Those two weeks in the summer they spend with Daphne. Or a conference, or something.

* * *

Next day they make their way to the park - a weekend with their uncle must consist of the right amount of sports. These include basketball, ultimate Frisbee and maybe some soccer.

Kids have plenty of energy, he's reminded yet again.

They rustle him to the ground.

"For lord and land!" Owen charged at him.

(Mark has a thing with Lord of the Rings, it's his decided rites of passage for the kids)

Luce and Jake just looked at each other for two seconds and ran right after him.

Surprisingly, they don't trade his freedom for ice cream, even though that was Owen initial goal.

"Pizza. With the good stuff," Luce demands.

Even more surprising - the good stuff means goat cheese. Are those kids or 26-year-old hipsters?

They do make some mean homemade pizza, watch a movie. The first casualty is carried to bed halfway through. The second sees the credits through drooping eyelids and is ushered to brush her teeth and be done with it, the third is a tough sell -

"How's the deck going?"

"Halfway through prep. There's still plenty to go, if you want to come and chip in."

"You're the worst! You do know that, right?" The teen groans.

"What about furniture? Specifically, that TV, and maybe a comfortable couch I can actually sleep on?"

Jake's relentless. The kid actually makes him do a list which details what is needed for each room in the house to be complete. Writes it all down. When they're done and he's skims over it, he stops at 'General'. There's one, single, entry -

'your person'.

Is this an intervention themed weekend? Sarah's gonna pop from behind the curtains?

This is nephew warfare.

"Hey!" There's a hand waving in front of his face. "Can I have a beer?"

"No."

"Just a sip!"

"No."

The teen retreats, looking subdued, for all the world. He knows better.

(It's not like the kid never tasted beer, or he doesn't count on him to drink responsibly. Beer and wine are part of their family dinners, the kids are with the adults drinking - it isn't some big secret which will make it more alluring. He's underage and his parents are not around - It's simple math. )

(Also, the wrath of Sarah is a lot worse than Zoe's. So-)

"Jake," he stresses the 'a' while standing up, "give me the key."

"What key?"

They all get they're acting skills from their father. Have no problem with omitting, it's the 'Well, I'll just play dumb' in their game plans that always gets them.

"The key to the studio. Come on, hand it over."

('The studio' is what used to be a garage in its previous life and now is where Sarah keeps all her photography equipment. It also happens to be where alcohol is stashed in this house. There's even a small fridge.)

He thinks he hears a 'damn it' under a breath, and the key lands in his outstretched hand. He, of course, immediately pockets it and charges for his nephew.

Thus ensues the great battle of 2013.

It takes more than a few minutes to subdue the teen. They're not on a mat or something that can cushion a fall, and he tries his best not to hurt the kid, basically.

Rustling the laughing teen through the door, he bids Jake good night, and goes in search for that beer his nephew was planning on.

The battle ended with a truce. The trade was an earlier bedtime for a karting outing sometimes soon, and his uncle promise to consider a playing console in his now finished basement.

He just needs a few moments to himself, before sleep takes him and he'll wake up to a world where the main narrative that goes through his mind is not his own. It's Owen's or Luce's or even Jake's.

It's a good thing, having their narrative drown his mind, it's the exact effect he was going for. Yet he still needs a moment. So he can actually fall asleep - Jake pushed that button, the one that plagues him with worry for over a month now, that has been hounding him with pain for more than six.

He's looking for something to distract himself, just for a bit.

He wanders to the studio, looking for a beer and a few copies he was promised and then denied, Sarah's reasons. She thinks she knows better. She can drive him crazy sometimes.

Settles on a manila folder. Knowing Sarah, if it's in a folder she haven't gone through this batch yet, and if she was here she wouldn't let him go near it, muttering something about thievery.

He makes his way back to the living room, takes a sit on the couch, takes a sip of beer and takes the stack out.

* * *

A family dinner. The crew at the beach, in the park, outside in the backyard. She's an amazing photographer, his sister. Plays with light and shadow, able to catch moments beautifully - Most of the frames on the walls at his place came from her. There are some with landscapes, some of the home and it's occupants - Mark in the kitchen, flipping a pancake in the air. The crew around the counter, waiting for breakfast.

The same thoughts go through his mind every time he catches a glimpse of this family moments, seemingly uncensored -'Do I have this in store for me?'

Owen asleep on the couch, about to be picked up for bed but not quite, Jake at a hockey game-

He's just trying to understand what he's looking at for a few moments.

It's her.

He'll know those doe eyes anywhere. And he hasn't seen them in months (for a guy in love with a woman for three years, being together for almost a year - he doesn't have a single photo. What a joke.)

It's only her eyes, but he can tell she's smiling, content.

She takes up the whole frame. There is no background to supply clues, there are no inscriptions on the back of the print. Nothing.

It's a single photo. He quickly goes through the whole stack, but it is.

His inner narrative sounds a lot like a toddler first time differing wh-questions from the rest of the English language.

How did this photo get here? Who took it? Why is it here? When was it taken? Is he imagining things now?

He falls asleep on the couch, wakes up to Owen's ice cold hands on his face. He's an early bird, the little monster. Takes him a minute or two to catch his bearing and he's up in search of coffee. Sipping on his steaming cup, he walks back to the living room.

Owen runs up to him, holding a photo. That's Owen, on one of the last days of the previous year, according to his nephew. You see, he's wearing the shirt grade three got at the end of last year. The entire school went on a field day, so that's a lot of kids. And you can't really tell a grade four you don't need to count from a grade three you need to count. That's what the colors are for.

(It's also a way to give less fortunate kids a new shirt to wear, without it feeling like charity.

They do the same thing with hoodies in the winter.)

"It's red, and usually I don't wear red. But I was brave for my class and I wore it."

"Real brave. What is it with red?"

The little one just shrugs. Before he has a chance to come up with a way to solve this 'red riddle', Luce appears from around the corner, already dressed for the day.

Apparently they're going kart racing. Well, that's part of his debt paid.

* * *

They spend the day outside, after. He's not sure if it's a good or bad, for his well-being. Being cooped up inside the house, with board games and movies might have been more distracting, but he would have zoned out, and the kids would have noticed. And Sarah would be on his case, with Jake as her wing man.

They never met, McNally and Sarah. Heck, Sarah has not been to Toronto since before he even _knew_ McNally.

He's quite sure his sister doesn't even know McNally's name.

Has Oliver truly crossed the line into pulling this kind of pranks? For all he knows this photo has been sitting here since June, planted and waiting for him to find it. Is this part of Sarah's big plan?

He's a trained UC officer, a detective. He knows when someone's trying to play him. He didn't expect this kind of cruelty from his sister.

He also needs to consider other options, except an attempt to goad him in extremely bad taste.

(Oliver wouldn't do that. Oh, he would do it, but the brother is decent enough to know to call it off...maybe he forgot? With everything going on...

Ollie wouldn't cross the lines this way. Not while McNally is out of the picture. While she was under, or is, for all they know. It's-

What the- Ouch.

Having lost his balance from the hit he lands on his ass, in the sand.

Luce's runs up to him, looking alarmed. She threw a volleyball that just hit her uncle in the shoulder. Hard.

He zoned out while playing ball with his niece and nephews.

Great.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'll just sit this one out, alright? Luce - you're switching teams."

Takes a seat against a tree, takes a long drink of water and settles in to watch the crew play volleyball without him. It's a sand pit, they'll be just fine.

And again:

Yeah, this isn't like his sister and Ollie.

The other option he considers: Sarah took this shot. She actually met McNally.

...How in the name of...just, how? And why didn't Sarah say anything?

'Hey, I ran into someone who knows you, guess who.'

Really, anything.

This photo alarms him. More than anything they uncovered so far, this picture alarms him. His mind is in an utter jumble. He cannot think straight, it sends him to so many possibilities, some of them are nightmares, others are just ridiculous.

He feels himself getting overwhelmed, he should do what he does best.

Push it down, shut it out.

He needs to have a talk with his sister.

Now back to having fun.

* * *

A/N: I know we're complete as we are, but Sam's a character in a tv show. He's not complete without the other part of the OTP.

Sooo, I'm back. Had a lot going on, was also kinda stuck.

Until next time,

totheboats


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